Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter 37

Trip went with me to the design review on Monday. We needed to pick up a dump truck and backhoe, but he also wanted to see for himself why the meetings with Granville took so long. He tried to keep the old windbag on track, but Granville was a force of nature. A simple review that should’ve taken thirty minutes took two hours instead.

“He never stopped talking, did he?” Trip muttered as we drove away.

“Nope. And I have to deal with that twice a week. I tried to get him to do once a week, but he balked.” I cleared my throat, Foghorn Leghorn-style, and said in a drawl, “Ah don’— Ah say— Ah don’ believe once a week satisfies the requirements of the Board, vis-à-vis ‘direct supervision.’”

“Oh, brother,” Trip said. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“He actually said ‘vis-à-vis’?”

“Uh-huh. And now you know why I lose half a day when I meet him.”

“Yeah, all right.”

“And we’re going to lose the rest of the day getting to Spartanburg and back. None of the places in town have what we need?”

“There’s only one,” he scoffed. “And they only have small equipment, nothing bigger’n a Ditch Witch. So… Spartanburg.”

“Roger that,” I said.

“Today?” he prodded.

I stepped on the gas. The Cruiser lurched and accelerated, albeit reluctantly.

“Dude,” Trip said. “When’s the last time you had this thing checked out?”

A week’s worth of frustrations boiled over.

“When?” I snapped. “In my fucking free time? I work all day, draw all night, and barely have time to sleep. Fuck! This weekend was the first time I had to do anything I wanted, but you kept talking about work. Fucking Bobcats and brush cutters! Or, maybe you meant when I was smelling the fucking roses? Or sipping lemonade with Granville J. Bloviator the fucking Third?”

Trip weathered the tirade with remarkable patience. “Are you done?” he said at last.

I fumed silently.

“Yeah, I probably deserved that.” Then he chuckled. “Is ‘bloviator’ an actual word or did you just make it up?”

I glared.

“Dude, chill out. I was trying to lighten the mood. Listen, I’m sorry. You’re working as hard as I am. Harder, since you have to deal with Granville and me. I have to remember that, even if I can’t see it.”

“Damn right.”

“It was easier last summer, when we were together all the time. But now…? I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t’ve doubted you.”

“No, you shouldn’t’ve. But thanks for saying so.”

“Still friends?”

“You know we are.”

“Yeah, but it never hurts to apologize and admit when I’m wrong.”

“Maybe you should stop saying things you need to apologize for?”

“You sound like my dad.” He thought of something and chuckled. “No, you sound like your mom. Whoa, lemme rephrase! I meant it as a compliment. Your mom’s pretty cool. She… gives good advice.”

I looked at him sideways and wondered what else he thought she was good at. I wasn’t offended or even shocked, but I wasn’t about to explain why.

He misunderstood my look. “Sorry I mentioned it. You don’t wanna know.”

“You’re probably right,” I lied, and we left it at that.

* * *

The next day we started demolition in the house we wanted to use as a rec center. It was hot, dirty, exhausting work, and we rarely spoke. Besides, we wore hard hats, goggles, and masks, which only added to the sense of isolation. The kitchen alone took the whole day, and I was glad to listen to Christy and Wren chat at dinner, if only to feel like part of the group again.

Wren had started work as Susan’s personal assistant and camp manager, and she enjoyed the challenge of something new. Christy had taken over the pool, cleaning, and lunch duties. Then she tried to convince Trip to let her borrow the Volkswagen for a grocery run.

“Oh, no,” Wren said immediately. “That’s the one thing I enjoy. I have absolute control over the kitchen and what we eat.”

“So?” Christy wheedled. “You can control other things. Besides, I cook too! I made lunch, didn’t I? Yesterday and today.”

“I know, my love. And thank you.”

“So… let me do this! I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“I know I won’t, ’cause I’m not gonna give it up,” Wren said. “No. And that’s final.”

“Your driver’s license is expired anyway,” I said to Christy. “That’s why I said no. Insurance won’t cover it if you have an accident.”

“Then I won’t have an accident.” She glared. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours,” I laughed. “You’d be in just as much trouble. Driving on an expired license…?”

She waved it away.

“I’ll drive,” Wren said. “And you can come with me. You can be my assistant.”

“How come I’m your sous but she’s your assistant?” I wondered aloud.

“Because I like calling you Sue.”

I heard the difference and snorted, and her smirk turned into a “gotcha” grin. Score one for Wren. Again.

“I don’t wanna be the assistant,” Christy complained. “No one lets me be in charge of anything.” She balled her fists and stomped a small foot. “I can too do things.”

“Then let’s find something for you to do,” I said.

Trip gave me a sly look. “We still have to decorate the bungalows. Art, accessories, linens, everything. And I need someone to start picking out colors and interior design for the houses.”

“I could do it,” I suggested.

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. Meddler!” Christy said. “He was talking to me and you know it!”

“Do you think you’d be good at it?” Trip asked mildly.

“I know what you’re doing,” she fired back, “and it’s not going to work. Only, it is.”

He and I shared a grin.

“None of us have your sense of style,” Trip added. “I certainly don’t.”

He was right. His “going out” attire had been jeans and cowboy shirts before Wren had upgraded his wardrobe.

“You really mean it?” Christy asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll ask the furniture company for wood and fabric samples. Paul can stop by McMaster’s and pick up paint chips the next time he goes to meet Granville. And I’m sure you can find a catalog or two for ideas on the rest.”

“I can,” Christy said.

“And another thing…,” he added. “Susan really needs help with her computer. You know it better than any of us, even me. You can help me pick out a printer, too. The guy tried to sell me one, but I didn’t think we’d need it.”

“We do.”

“Well, yeah,” he laughed. “I know that now!” He polled Wren and me with a barely suppressed grin. “Would anyone like to make a motion…?”

I spoke up immediately, “I move that Christy is our new designer and computer nerd—”

“Hey!” she squawked. “Watch who you’re calling ‘nerd,’ Mr… Nerd!”

“Computer expert,” Trip said smoothly.

“Much better.” She glared at me for effect.

Wren raised her hand. “I second the motion.”

“All in favor?” Trip asked.

“Aye,” we said together.

“Passed by unanimous vote.”

“Hey, don’t I get a vote?” Christy protested.

“Nope. Conflict of interest,” Trip said. “Besides… would you really vote no?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“All right. So, it’s settled. You’re our new designer and computer expert. I need you to start…”

* * *

Trip and I continued working on the houses during the day. Wren took over more duties around the camp, while Christy spent her time with Susan and my mom, talking about design and decorations. They probably talked about other things, but Christy never said what. She merely smiled and said she loved me when I asked.

We spent our evenings in the clubhouse—after a long, cold shower on my part. Wren and Christy cooked, drank wine, and chatted. Trip listened to music or a baseball game and worked on the computer with a glass of Jack Daniel’s, the good stuff. I did the same with my Walkman at my drafting table, usually with a snifter of Wren’s cognac.

We swam and relaxed in the pool after dinner. The evenings were warm, but the water was clean and cool, a welcome change from the grit and grime of the day. And we were all tired from work, so we didn’t have wild orgies or anything. In fact, we were more like normal couples than swingers, although “normal” for us wasn’t the same as monogamy.

On Friday Wren decided to make penne alla vodka. She and Christy started drinking the main ingredient and were both tipsy by the time dinner was ready. They were determined to get Trip and me drunk too, and we didn’t really put up a fight.

For dessert, Christy wanted semen and berries. Trip volunteered immediately. Wren wasn’t interested in dessert for herself, but she had a pie with my name on it, she said. She spread her legs and casually invited me to eat up. I laughed and lifted her to the adjacent table instead. Then I pulled up a chair and started playing with my food.

She ran her fingers through my hair and sighed, “My wish is your command.”

I circled her clit with my tongue and then sucked gently.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Let me know if you want some pointers,” Trip said.

“No, he’s doing fine,” Wren said languidly. “Just fine… Mmm, less talking, more licking.”

Christy agreed and deep throated Trip. At that point he decided that conversation was overrated.

* * *

We hiked to the quarry on Saturday. Christy shot a couple of wistful looks at the falls, and I knew she wanted to talk. We couldn’t do it around Trip and Wren, so I asked if she wanted to go for a swim instead, and we left the others on the big rock.

We swam at a leisurely pace to the waterfall and then along the rocky wall. An ancient fault in the granite had sheared away part of the cliff and left a shallow alcove. It formed a ledge at the base, about a foot below the surface. I scooted my butt onto it, and Christy supported herself with her arms on my legs.

“Do you need some attention?” I said.

“Yes, please.”

“I kinda figured.”

“I know you’ve been tired from work, but I don’t think you understand…”

“Oh, I understand.”

“Maybe tonight we can go to bed early?” she suggested.

“You need more than just attention, don’t you?”

“Are you going to make me say it?”

“No,” I chuckled. “I know what you want.”

“Thank you.” She thought of something else and sighed. “I miss Kim. She isn’t the girlfriend type, but we have a lot in common.”

I nodded.

“And Carter… Oh my gosh, Paul, I get all hot and slippery… You really need to learn how to do that. It wasn’t just the spanking. It was… lots of things, too much to explain in words.”

“Should I give him a call?” I teased. “Get a lesson over the phone?”

“I know you think you’re being funny, but I’m serious, Paul. I need that kind of discipline. I’m okay with vanilla sex, and I love sucking your cock, but… Sometimes I lie awake at night. All I can think about is you tying me up, spanking and teasing me for, like, hours. I end up playing with myself until I can go to sleep again.”

My eyebrows rose with a question.

“Almost every night. Since… you know.”

“Since they left?”

She nodded glumly. “I tried to wake you up a couple of times, but you were really asleep. I even sucked you off once. You came and everything. You mumbled something and patted my head, but that was it.”

“Seriously? I don’t even remember.”

She nodded. “It’s okay, but not the same as when you’re awake.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. We’ve been so busy on the houses…”

“I know. But we’re busy all the time. And I have needs, Paul.”

“I’ll try to do better.”

“You’re doing fine. I just want to make a date for tonight. I love Wren, don’t get me wrong, and even Trip’s been super-nice lately, but it isn’t the same as when you and I do it. Besides, I don’t like thinking about Carter so much.”

My eyebrows rose again.

“He’s a nice guy, and I like sucking his dick, but I should think about you when I have fantasies like that. So you need to learn, okay?”

“Okay,” I said seriously. “We’ll go visit them in Charlotte. I don’t know when, but… soon. I’ll give him a call in the meantime.”

“That’s fine. I’m patient.” She laughed at herself. “Only, I’m not. Not really. But I am about this. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I need more than just vanilla sex.” She thought of something else and laughed again, softer. “I can’t believe I’m even talking like this. Can you imagine? A year ago? I was such a goody-goody. But now I talk about all sorts of things like it’s everyday conversation.”

“It is,” I chuckled. “For couples.”

“I know. But I’m still surprised. I never did it before. Well, with Brooke, sort of, but no one else. Not even Wren.” She shrugged. “Yeah, we talked about guys, but nothing really naughty, like bondage or discipline. She’s really normal.”

“She likes girls and swinging,” I said. “That’s a lot more than ‘normal.’”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“At least Brooke is more like me. And while we’re on the subject, I need to call her. I want to make sure she’s still coming and doesn’t chicken out. Only, I’ve been scared to use the phone. You know how Trip is about the long-distance bill.”

I nodded.

“Can you ask if it’s okay? Susan said I could use hers, but it’s never the right time.”

“I think I’ll get one of those long-distance calling cards,” I mused. “But until then, I’ll just tell Trip to give me the bills. Call her whenever you want. Even tonight.”

“No! Oh my gosh! Tonight you’re going to tie me up and punish me and do naughty things. I need it, Paul. I’m already getting hot, just thinking about it.”

“Do you need some attention now?”

“Yes, please.” She stroked my nascent erection. “Would you like to hold my head when you come? And shoot down my throat?”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Mmm, good. Then I can play with myself the second time.”

“So… you’re already planning round two?”

“Paul, dear, I’m planning a million-billion rounds. You’re in real danger with me, remember?”

“A million-billion?” I chuckled. “That’s a lot of blowjobs.”

“Fellatio, dear. Oh, and I learned a new word. Fellatrix, a woman who performs fellatio. And the plural, fellatrices.” She turned thoughtful. “I suppose I should thank them. Your mother and Susan, I mean.”

“Thank them? Why?”

“You wouldn’t like it nearly as much if they hadn’t… um… you know. Susan, especially, but your mother too. Wow, I can’t believe I’m talking about this either. Never in a million years…”

I chuckled.

She shook herself and returned to the present. “Funny, ha ha, Mr. Open-minded. I’m not like you. This is all still new to me. But if you don’t mind, a certain fellatrix needs her penis.”

“Oh, so it’s yours now?”

“Yes, dear. Till death do us part. You too, Mr. Big.”

* * *

We spent Sunday at the quarry as well, although we mostly talked and relaxed. Trip and I made plans to clear the access road and build some permanent structures. He wanted a deck over part of the rocky beach, plus a shed to store chairs and a couple of umbrellas for shade. Christy wanted a diving platform at the top of the falls, along with a rope ladder.

“What about a raft?” Wren suggested. “Like the one at camp.”

“We could do that,” Trip said.

“Hold on,” I wondered, “does Susan actually own the quarry?”

“Dude, she owns everything from the highway to the river. A bunch by the interstate, too. Probably a hundred thousand acres, altogether.”

I showed him my tonsils.

“You know how she likes to joke that she owns half the county?” he continued. “She isn’t joking. She owns a good chunk of the next county, too, the one to the south.”

Wren nodded solemnly.

“Wow. I had no idea,” I said. “I mean, I knew she owned lots of land, but… a hundred thousand acres? Seriously?”

“Seriously. She’s one of the largest landowners in the state. Anyway, she owns the quarry and everything for miles. I looked at the plat again. We can get to the access road from…”

* * *

On Monday I went to story time with Granville, while Trip drove to the dump to empty the truck. He returned long before I did, but he didn’t give me a hard time when I finally joined him, nearly an hour after lunch.

“Sorry,” I said. “Granville was in rare form.”

“I figured. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Surprisingly, we spent an hour doing actual work.”

“For real?”

“Yep. I asked him about that resort he did, and we talked about comprehensive design. He had a bunch of good suggestions for how to tie mine together, to make the buildings complement each other instead of being identical. Speaking of which, we need to talk to Susan about redoing the façades on the motel buildings. For obvious reasons.”

Trip nodded and made a mental note.

“I think I’m learning how to manage him, too,” I continued. “If I know what I wanna talk about beforehand, I can ask him up front about projects he’s done that’re similar. Yeah, he still talks for an hour, but it’s easier to direct the conversation and get him to focus on what I need.”

“Smart,” Trip said. “I knew you’d figure it out. And I thought I was the silver-tongued devil.”

“That only works with Susan.”

“You bet it does!” he laughed. Then he gestured with his hammer. “C’mon, let’s get to work. Sorry… back to work.”

“Thank you.”

We spent the rest of the day ripping out dark paneling and faded carpet, along with a couple of seriously ugly pastel bathrooms. It wasn’t mindless work, but it didn’t require my full attention, so I used the time to think.

Christy had been steadily dropping hints about weddings, honeymoons, and marriage in general. The comments were always subtle, worked into normal conversation, but they added up. She was her mother’s daughter, all right, and I got the message—she was ready for me to pop the question, immediately, right away, chop-chop.

Part of me wanted to ignore Rich’s advice. This was the Twentieth Century, after all, not the Eighteenth or Nineteenth. I didn’t need Harold’s permission to marry his daughter. She was an adult. She could do what she wanted. And the sooner he realized that, the better.

Another part of me knew that it wouldn’t hurt to ask. In fact, it would do a lot of good. It was about respect and maturity. Besides, he couldn’t really say no, and he was smart enough to realize that I wouldn’t go away even if he did.

At that point I imagined a knock-down, drag-out argument if he did say no. Then I imagined ignoring him and marrying her anyway. Neither was likely to happen, but it was fun to fantasize about. I was a knight in shining armor and Christy was a fair maiden, held hostage by the evil King Harold.

“Seriously?” I laughed aloud. “Get a grip, dude.”

Trip stopped chiseling tiles. “Huh? Did you say something?”

“Sorry. Talking to myself.”

“Whatever. C’mon, I wanna finish this one today. Time is—”

“—money. I know. Back to work.”

I decided that asking Harold’s permission wouldn’t kill me. He wasn’t an evil king, after all. And he loved his daughter. He wanted her to be happy. Besides, it was a formality more than anything, and he’d probably say yes.

I stopped second-guessing myself and began planning instead. I needed to find a way to sneak off to San Diego without Christy finding out. I had a couple of ideas, but I needed to arrange some other things first.

I came up with an excuse that evening and went to visit Susan to make a few calls. Then I spent a day and a half working out the details in my head. Finally, I enlisted Trip’s help.

“Oh, you’re good,” he said when I told him the plan.

“Do you really think it’ll work?”

“It should. We’ll need to pick up the Bobcat tomorrow, though. Let’s knock off early today. I’ll call and reserve it. I can drive to Spartanburg while you’re with Granville.”

I nodded.

“I’ll need to tell Wren, though. Are you okay with that?”

“Can she keep a secret?”

He gave me a flat look.

“Yeah, dumb question.”

“So you’re really going to do it?” He pulled down his mask so I could see his grin.

I did the same and lifted my goggles as well. “Looks like.”

“Well, let me be the first to congratulate you.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I laughed. “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

“Dude! She will. You’re perfect for each other. And between you and me, that’s all she and Wren talk about lately. I get an earful every night. I’m supposed to encourage you.”

“Seriously? Why haven’t you said anything?”

He shrugged. “No need.”

“Huh?”

“How long’ve we known each other? You think I can’t tell when you’re planning something?”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

“And… I hope you don’t mind, but I’m totally gonna take credit. With Wren, at least.”

“For real?”

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I am!” We traded a couple of goofy grins before he sobered and looked at the clutter around us. We were in the middle of another kitchen, this one with metal cabinets that had seen their best days under President Eisenhower. “Everything here will keep,” Trip said. “Besides, we have better things to do.”

“I don’t know who’s more excited,” I joked, “me or you.”

“Who cares? We’re both gonna get laid.”

“Ha! No kidding.”

“Let’s go. Time is pussy.”

* * *

A couple of days later, I emerged from the bungalow and dried my hair on the porch. I was still cold from the shower, and the late-afternoon heat felt good.

Christy glanced my direction and smiled. Then she returned her attention to the pH test kit. She couldn’t balance her checkbook to save her life, but she could balance the pool chemicals almost without thinking. I chuckled to myself at the way her brain worked.

All of a sudden the clubhouse door swung open.

“Dude,” Trip called across the patio, “we got problems.”

Christy’s head came up, and she watched as he strode toward me.

I met him halfway. “What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with Sayuri. It’s the house. The sewer float busted.”

That wasn’t what we’d planned.

“It just blew,” he continued with a straight face. “Sky high.”

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said, “is it bad?”

“It’s bad,” he told her. “The city turned off the sewage backflow pump—”

The what?

“—but we still have problems.” He turned a grave face to me. “You’re the only one who knows how the sewer float works. You have to hurry. If you don’t…” He trailed off ominously.

“What?” Christy asked.

“There’s a river of shit heading straight for the house.”

Her eyes widened in horror.

I’m going to kill him, I thought grimly.

“Oh my gosh, Paul! You have to stop it.”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” I said.

“We’ll lose the house if you don’t,” Trip said. Then he delivered his pièce de résistance. “Help us, Poopie-Wan. You’re our only hope.”

I nearly burst a blood vessel, and I had to cover my face so Christy wouldn’t see how hard I was trying not to laugh. I somehow convinced her it was disgust.

Trip grinned smugly. How long had he been thinking of that line? How had he even said it with a straight face?

“You have to go,” Christy said. “Now!”

“The city has a temporary sewer dam in place,” Trip said, “but they don’t think it’ll hold more than a day.”

“So I can leave in the morning?” I said, back on-script.

“No! Go now!” Christy insisted. “It’s a river of you-know-what, Paul.”

“No, Paul’s right,” Trip said. “None of the hardware stores’ll be open. He needs to buy a new sewer float and decrapulator assembly.”

I had to bite my lip and look away.

Christy mistook my pain for indecision. “I’ll help you pack,” she said. “You can leave first thing in the morning.”

I’ll get you for this, I thought at Trip.

Hey, you said you needed a crappy excuse.

* * *

I left before breakfast and drove to Atlanta instead of Knoxville. I could’ve driven to Columbia or Charlotte, but my chances were better with Atlanta. I refused to pay the exorbitant last-minute ticket prices, so I used my dependent pass to book standby.

The airline had several direct flights to San Diego, and I’d picked the one with the most empty seats. The gods of travel smiled on me. I made the passenger list without breaking a sweat, and Rich was waiting for me when I arrived.

“Well, if it isn’t Romeo,” he said, “all dressed up and everything. I didn’t think you’d have the stones to do it, but here you are. Gotta respect that.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.

“Thanks, Rich. And thanks for picking me up.”

“Orders.”

“Hold on… you told your parents?”

“No, of course not. What kind of idiot do you think I am? Standing orders—keep an eye on the boyfriend.” He nodded at my backpack. “You have any other luggage?”

“No, just this.”

“All right. Then let’s go.”

We walked toward the main terminal in silence, and I realized that Rich was playing a game to see who would speak first.

“Seriously?” I said in exasperation. “Is everything a competition with you?”

“Not everything,” he admitted. “Only where you’re concerned.”

“Fine. Whatever. What did you tell your parents?”

“That I’m bringing a friend home for dinner and to spend the night.”

“They’re okay with that?”

“Of course. I do it all the time. Navy chow gets old.”

We drove to his parents’ house in silence, although I could feel him working up to something. He parked in the driveway and turned off the Blazer’s engine.

“You want some advice?”

“That depends,” I said warily.

“Always on guard,” he chuckled. “I like that about you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it. Okay, here goes… Drink the good stuff if he offers. And be polite, but don’t back down. He respects junior officers who’ll stand up to him.”

I blinked in surprise.

“One last thing…”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

* * *

Rich and I walked around the garage and entered the screen porch. He turned the kitchen doorknob and opened it quietly. Then he sort of glide-stepped into the house. His mother was standing by the stove with her back to us, although she chose that moment to turn toward the sink. She saw him out of the corner of her eye and jumped in surprise.

“Oh my gosh, Richard! Don’t scare me like that! You know I—! Paul? What’re you—?” Her eyes widened again, with excitement this time. “Oh, dear. It’s happening, isn’t it? Never mind. Forget I said anything. Come in, come in.”

Rich walked toward her normally and bent to accept a kiss on the cheek.

“How many times have I told you?” she chided. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Why not? It’s good practice.”

“You’ll give me a heart attack one day.”

“Never. You’re going to outlive us all.”

“Not if you keep scaring me.” She waved me closer and gave me a kiss as well. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Never mind. I know. Only, I’m supposed to pretend I don’t. Isn’t that how it works?”

“How’s he s’posed to know?” Rich laughed. “He’s never done this before either.”

“Be nice,” his mother told him. Then she turned businesslike. “Let me put dinner in the oven and then you can fix me a drink. I need it after the fright you gave me. And I’m sure Paul wants to talk to your father.”

“I’m glad one of us does,” he joked.

“You sound like Daniel again.”

“Ugh! And what’re you grinning about, Romeo?”

“You. You’re so much like Birdy.”

“Only more dangerous.”

“Not to me.”

Anne grinned at him expectantly.

“No fair,” he muttered.

“Yes, dear,” she said sweetly. Then she smiled at me. “I’m glad you’re here. Harold’s in his office.”

It was the verbal equivalent of a firm shove, and I suppressed a smile. I’d never stood a chance, with Christy or her family.

“Well, here goes,” I said. “Faint heart never won fair lady.”

“Not in this family,” Rich chuckled. “Go on. And remember what I told you.”

Anne looked curious but didn’t ask.

“Roger that,” I said.

I walked toward the front of the house. It was farther than I remembered, at least a mile. My heart started pumping more blood to my brain, and my breathing struggled to keep up.

I rehearsed my arguments for the umpteenth time. My actual speech was short and sweet, but I’d thought of a million things to say if he said no.

I reached the open doors and paused just out of sight. I listened. Nothing.

After a moment I looked back. Anne and Rich were watching from the kitchen. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, but she nodded encouragement. I felt an enormous weight on my chest, so I paused and tried to get my heart rate and breathing under control.

Then I took the first step, into the king’s audience chamber. Harold was working at his desk, and he didn’t notice me at first. He jerked in surprise but recovered quickly. He was used to taking charge, after all.

“Paul! Ah, I see. So you’re the ‘friend’?” His eyes narrowed shrewdly and he switched gears, to the cordial host. “Good to see you. Come in.” He stood and walked around the desk. He was wearing a white Izod polo and bright Kelly green slacks. “Uniform of the day,” he said dryly. “Golf.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Do you play?”

“Not yet.”

He chuckled and gestured at the liquor cabinet. “Drink?”

“Yes, please.”

“Whiskey? Ice? The usual?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Mmm. Have a seat.”

I sat. Then I smoothed my pants. I crossed my legs but uncrossed them just as quickly. I sat forward instead. Finally, I planted my hands on my knees and told myself to stop fidgeting.

Harold turned from the liquor cabinet and handed me a nearly full glass. It was a triple, and my eyebrows rose in surprise.

“You look like you need it.” He settled into the comfortable wingback chair, swirled the ice in his own glass, and sipped. “Drink up.”

I did, although I scarcely noticed the bite of the whiskey. I tilted the glass higher and kept going, until the ice froze my lip and the last drops trickled over my tongue.

Harold looked on with curious amusement. “Another?”

“No. Thank you.” I set the empty glass on the table.

“So,” he said, idle chitchat, “what brings you to San Diego?”

“I think you know. Sir. And I won’t beat around the bush… I want to marry Christy.”

“And…?” His ice-blue eyes glinted, not with a warning, but something closer to enjoyment.

“I’m asking your permission.”

He nodded thoughtfully and still didn’t say anything. Then he settled into his chair. He crossed his legs, sipped his drink, and studied me. Senior officers cracked under that gaze. Junior ones broke entirely.

I reminded myself that I wasn’t either.

“You’re a cool one, all right.” Harold set his drink on the table and pretended to look relaxed. I couldn’t read him as easily as Christy, but he was thinking hard. “Now, what were we talking about?”

My eyes tightened.

“Ha! Brave, too. Brave… or foolish. I don’t see that look very often.” He held up a hand before I could defend myself. “It’s all right. You remind me of me. So, you want to marry Birdy? And you’re asking my permission?” he mused.

“Yes, sir.”

He thought about it and nodded. “Before I give you my answer, let me ask you something. What would you do if I say no? Would you respect my wishes?”

“Yes, sir. But I’d tell Christy.”

“Hmm. Asymmetric warfare. Good strategy.” He paused. “What then?”

“I’d wait.”

“Ah. A war on two fronts. Against my wife and daughter. You don’t fight fair.”

“No, sir. I fight to win.”

I had a sudden, vivid image of Rich pumping his fist. I couldn’t see or hear him, but I knew he’d done it. I cleared my head and focused on the reality I could see.

Harold chuckled. “Oh, boy. Now you definitely remind me of me. And I suppose you think you’ve already won?”

“I want to marry your daughter. She wants to marry me. Of course I’ve won. The rest is just… posturing.”

“You may be right.” He smiled, although it faded as his eyes went to the past. “I never had this conversation with Anne’s father. He died before I met her.”

I nodded.

“But I’ve always imagined what it would’ve been like. Asking her mother was hard enough,” he added. “Now there’s a woman who knows how to intimidate someone.”

“I know the feeling,” I said under my breath. Anne wasn’t intimidating in the physical sense, but I wouldn’t cross her unless my life depended on it.

Harold folded his hands in his lap, exactly like Christy did. “I don’t know why I’m trying to intimidate you.”

“Habit?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But if I give you permission, I’d like a favor in return. No, belay that.” He studied me and then nodded once, decisively. “All right, you can marry Birdy.”

I waited for the other shoe to drop.

“You have my blessing.”

I still couldn’t believe it, so I held my breath.

Harold eyed me with growing amusement.

I finally broke. “Seriously? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he agreed. “Although… now that I’ve said yes, I’d like to discuss that favor.”

“Anything!”

He laughed. “Wait till you hear before you agree.”

“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’d say no?”

“Well, then… I should press the advantage.” He paused and finished seriously, “I want you to wait.”

“I— I’m sorry… What?”

“You heard me. But let me put it another way, more politely. Please don’t rush into it.”

“Why not?” I eyed him suspiciously.

He actually laughed. “No, not because I think she’ll change her mind,” he said. “We both know she won’t. She’s too darn stubborn. And she loves you. Any fool can see that, even an old one.”

“Then… what do you want?”

“Just what I said. Don’t rush into it. You can ask her to marry you, but don’t plan the wedding just yet. Please.” He reached for his drink and sipped to cover an emotion I couldn’t read. At first I thought it was embarrassment, but I couldn’t imagine about what.

“I wouldn’t normally ask,” he continued after a moment. “But… these are special circumstances.” He cleared his throat, and I was sure—he was embarrassed.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said.

“No, no. I owe you an explanation. I don’t normally talk about money, but…” He squared his shoulders and faced it head-on. “We bought another piece of property. In Meeks Bay. It’s much nicer than the one we have. It’s right on the lake.”

“Tahoe?”

“Yes, sorry. It’s exactly what we want, so we jumped when it came on the market.” He cleared his throat again. “We used all of our available cash to pay for it.”

“Ah. And now you’re worried that we want an expensive wedding.”

He nodded.

“We don’t.”

“Then you don’t know Birdy,” he chuckled. “Or my wife.”

“Fair enough.”

“Son… Paul… we want to give you the wedding you deserve. But we need a little time to recover first.”

“Of course.”

“I wouldn’t ask, but…” he continued. “In light of your…” He cleared his throat and continued, “Your living arrangements—”

My eyebrows flew up.

“—you aren’t in a rush to…” He floundered. “Not like I was.”

I controlled my expression and kept my big mouth shut. Diplomatically, of course.

“So I’m asking you to wait. Only a year,” he added quickly. “Or until you graduate. That’s fair, isn’t it?” It was a request, not an order.

“Of course.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you understand.”

I gave him a pointed look. “I could say the same to you… about our ‘living arrangements.’”

He blinked in surprise, but I didn’t back down, which made him grin instead. “I think Birdy’s met her match.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. And I believe this calls for a toast.”

He looked toward the kitchen and drew breath to call out.

Anne materialized in the doorway. “Yes, dear?”

“Ha! I should’ve known.” He looked at me. “Are you sure you want to sign up for this?”

“My mother asked Christy the same thing.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine what Birdy had to say about that.”

“She’s your daughter,” Anne agreed.

“Yours too.”

Her eyes crinkled with a smile. Then she glanced sideways, and Rich stepped into view.

“You heard?” his father asked him.

“Of course. What’s the point of eavesdropping if you don’t?”

“Son, I swear… you’re becoming more like Danny every day.”

“Someone has to. You’re too serious, and Mom’s too polite.”

Harold scoffed to show what he thought of that.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Rich said to me, “but congratulations. I’m happy for you. Welcome to the family.”

“Thanks, Rich. That means a lot.”

“Don’t think you’re out of danger, though. I’ll kill you if you hurt her—”

“Of course!” I laughed.

“—but… yeah. I’m happy for you. Happy for Birdy too.”

“Thank you.”

“You mentioned a toast?” Anne said into the silence.

“I believe I did.” Harold stood, and I followed suit. He poured the good stuff into fresh glasses and passed them around. “To Paul and Birdy. Sláinte.”

“Sláinte!”

Anne excused herself and returned with a small box, well kept but obviously old.

“This was my mother’s engagement ring,” she said. “She wants Christine to have it.”

The box was maroon leather with gold accents. I held it gently, afraid of what I’d find when I opened it. I imagined a plain gold ring with a tiny diamond solitaire, which was the last thing I wanted. But it had been Christy’s grandmother’s, so I’d be stuck with it. I decided to make the best of an awkward situation.

I pasted on a smile, opened the box, and felt my jaw go slack. I stared in mute astonishment, until my brain understood what my eyes were telling it.

The ring was platinum filigree Art Deco, with a matched pair of diamonds. They weren’t tiny, either. They were a respectable size, set together and surrounded by a dozen smaller stones that sparkled in the light. The jeweler’s name was printed in gold lettering on the lid’s silk lining.

Tiffany & Co., New York, Paris, London.

It was beautiful and unique, like Christy herself, but an irrational part of me wanted to object. I was supposed to pick out the ring myself. I was supposed to scrimp and save for months. I was supposed to buy the biggest diamond I could afford, a half-carat if I was lucky.

Instead, I’d been handed a two-carat family heirloom, and from Tiffany, no less! It was too much, and my conscience rebelled.

Fortunately, I came to my senses. Family was important to Christy, and she was her nana’s only granddaughter. The ring was a symbol that her family accepted me, too. Besides, it didn’t matter if I’d chosen it myself or even paid for it.

I dropped my silly objections. Then I locked them in a trunk for good measure. Finally, I shoved the whole thing into a deep, dark hole. With a Balrog. And a seriously pissed off wizard. They landed with a distant thud.

And stay there!

“It’s beautiful,” I said aloud. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. You’re going to make her very happy.”

“I hope so.”

“Or else,” Rich warned.

Anne sighed.

“What? I’m just saying—”

“Do you want to see the ring Nana gave me for your fiancée?”

He closed his mouth and actually gulped.

“Mmm, I thought not.” She smiled winsomely, a vision of my future. “Would you open a bottle of champagne?” she asked him. “There’s some in the refrigerator. Thank you, dear.”

* * *

Dinner continued the celebration with wine, and we switched to champagne again with dessert. We returned to whiskey when we moved to the living room. Harold and Rich talked politics and the Navy, while Anne and I talked about her mother and late father, and how much she’d enjoyed meeting my parents.

A couple of hours later, she hugged me fondly and said goodnight. She’d drunk as much as the rest of us, but she was barely tipsy. I envied her metabolism. She told us not to stay up too late. Then she kissed her husband and son goodnight.

Harold joined her about an hour later, but not before he and Rich dragooned me into his office to smoke a vile cigar. Even a glass of whiskey from a dusty old bottle wasn’t enough to make it taste better.

Rich and I kept drinking after Harold called it a night, and I finally staggered to bed well after midnight. Then, of course, Rich woke me before six.

“Hit the deck. Time for PT,” he said, disgustingly chipper.

I muttered a curse, and he chuckled with sublime indifference.

“I mean it,” I moaned. “Leave me alone.” A Viking raiding party had just marched up to the city gates in my head, and my mouth tasted worse than their boots. “Jus’ let me die. Tell Christy I love her.”

“Come on,” Rich said in a normal tone, “you need to get up. Fifteen minutes. Or I’m leaving without you.”

He didn’t leave without me, the son of a bitch.

“Shouldn’t say that,” I muttered aloud. “I like your mom.”

“What’re you talking about? Never mind. Here, drink this. And take these.” He hauled me upright, held a glass to my lips, and then forced me to swallow four Tylenol. “Now, get your ass up. We’re going for a run.” He looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. I mean it this time.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckled. Again. And then he returned, fifteen minutes later.

“Thought I tol’ you t’ fuck off,” I mumbled into the pillow. It was wet with drool. I didn’t care. Neither did the Vikings. They were too busy hammering away at the city gates.

“Get up,” Rich said. “You don’t wanna fly with a hangover. It makes it worse. We’re going for a run. Is that clear?”

“I don’ like you very much.”

He barked a laugh and then said mildly, “I’m sorry to hear that. But… who’re you trying to convince, me or you?”

Even the Vikings heard the irony. They roared with laughter.

“Sons’a bitches,” I muttered. “I can say it to them.”

Rich ignored me and hauled me upright. “Come on. Can you get dressed on your own? Or do you need me to help?”

“I can do it. An’ why do you care, anyway?”

“Because Mom’d kill me if you miss your flight. Besides, I feel responsible. I know you don’t have my metabolism. Now, get your ass in gear.”

I resigned myself to my fate. Then I found my running shorts, although I turned them several times as I tried to find the right hole. Rich left me alone to finish getting dressed, and I eventually stumbled into the hall.

“’Bout time,” he said. “Let’s go.”

We stretched outside and then ran to the end of the oceanside park, where I finally lost it. I threw up in the parking lot and dry-heaved until my stomach was empty. Then I tried to wash away the taste of vomit, bile, and stale cigar at a nearby water fountain.

“Not too much,” Rich warned.

“Yeah, I know.” I rinsed and spat, although it didn’t help.

“Better?”

“No,” I said resentfully.

He chuckled. “The only easy day was yesterday.”

“Hooyah.”

“I suppose you earned that,” he said. “But don’t push it.” He checked his pulse and then pressed buttons on his watch. “Come on, creampuff, you can do it. Let’s go.”

The raiding party in my head had finally broken through the gates. Now they were simply chanting, “Tyr! Tyr! Tyr!” I could live with that.

We ran another three miles, and I felt almost miserable by the time we finished. That was a vast improvement from before. I didn’t think I’d feel human again until December. At least the Vikings had settled to a dull party, with only an occasional victory cheer.

Back at the house, Anne fed me toast and orange juice. Harold commiserated over toast and coffee. He had a higher tolerance and had quit earlier, but he wasn’t feeling his best either. We both watched with a mixture of envy and nausea as the other two ate a full breakfast of eggs, sausage, toast, fruit, and muffins.

“Disgusting, isn’t it?” he said.

“You can say that again.”

“Get used to it,” Rich said cheerfully.

“Be nice, dear,” his mother said.

“That was nice. This melon is delicious. Is there any more?”

* * *

We left for the airport an hour later. I carried the ring box in my front pocket and kept patting it to make sure I hadn’t lost it.

When we arrived at the gate, the flight to Atlanta was so empty that the agent had already moved me from standby to the manifest. She even said I could board with the regular passengers.

Rich and Harold said goodbye and shook my hand. Anne gave me a long hug.

“Be good to her,” she whispered. It was her usual farewell, made extra special by the ring and her unwavering support.

I boarded the plane and found that I had a row of seats to myself. After takeoff I raised the armrests and stretched out. One of the flight attendants covered me with a blanket. I was a rumpled, hungover, miserable representative of the company, but no one called me on it.

Unfortunately, I had to sit up and buckle my seatbelt for landing. My sinuses were parched, my mouth was a desert, and even my eyeballs felt gritty. Worse, the Vikings had returned. They thought my temples would make good battering ram practice. Wait, did the Vikings even use battering rams? The ones in my head did. Repeatedly. Damn them.

I found a water fountain in the terminal and drank as much as I could stand. I began to feel better almost immediately, but I needed food as well. I’d slept through the meal on the plane, so I stopped at one of the restaurants in the main terminal.

The waitress was a world-weary Florence Nightingale with henna hair and kind eyes, and she’d probably seen more than her fair share of hungover travelers. She brought me an egg salad sandwich, plain potato chips, and a Coke. I left her a generous tip and trudged out to my car.

I hadn’t gone twenty miles before the Land Cruiser’s air conditioner succumbed to the July heat. It was a blessing in disguise, since I was still wearing my dress shirt and khakis. I’d taken off my jacket and tie, but I didn’t look like I’d spent a couple of days working on the house.

I stopped at a gas station and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Then I hid the ring box in the bottom of my backpack. I set it on the seat beside me and drove the rest of the way with one hand on the wheel and the other on the pack, in case I hit a bump and it flew out the window or something.

I arrived at the Retreat about an hour after sundown. My hangover had faded to a dull memory, and I was mostly tired from a long day. I was hot and dusty too, and my clothes stank of exhaust fumes. I’d driven two hundred miles with the windows open, after all.

Christy and the others were sitting at one of the tables on the patio. They’d spent the weekend clearing the quarry access road—the original plan for how to keep Christy from accompanying me—and they looked as tired as I felt. They were a lot cleaner, though, and Christy looked beautiful, even with no makeup and her hair tied up.

Just the sight of her made me forget my troubles. Then I thought of the ring in my backpack and wanted to shout for joy. Unfortunately, I had to pretend I’d spent the whole weekend working on the sewer.

“Welcome back,” Trip said.

“Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

“Did you save the house?” Christy asked. “From the river of you-know-what?”

“Yeah. The de— um… decrapifier—”

“The decrapulator?” she corrected, and Trip had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. I couldn’t even glare at him.

“Yeah, I… um… had to install a new one,” I lied awkwardly. “The Decrapifier 2000. It replaced the sewer float and… the other thing. It wasn’t made for a pipe like ours, though, so I had to use Trip’s record collection to hold it up. I hope you don’t mind, buddy.”

He knew I was lying and didn’t bat an eye, damn him.

“Not at all,” he said. “As long as you, ahem, got the approval you needed.” He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. He was having fun at my expense, and Wren wasn’t any better. She pursed her lips with smug amusement.

Unbelievably, Christy missed the whole exchange.

I composed myself and said, “Oh, I got the approval.”

Trip and Wren traded grins.

“But I’ve had a really long day, so…”

“Yeah, us too,” he agreed.

“Think I’ll shower and go to bed.”

“That’s cool. We’ll see you tomorrow. Back to work, I’m afraid. I wanna finish the access road before we start on the cabins.”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll call Granville. I haven’t worked on the drawings since Thursday, so it’d be a waste of time to see him.”

“Sounds good. Have a nice night. See you in the morning.”

Christy and I walked toward the bungalow in silence. We were happy to see each other, but my chest felt ready to burst with excitement. I wanted to sweep her into my arms and tell her everything. I wanted to spend my life with her, have kids with her, grow old with her!

I took a deep breath and did my best to hide my emotions. Christy deserved a proper proposal, not an impulsive one because I couldn’t contain myself. Besides, I was sticky, sweaty, smelly, and gross.

I opened the door and followed her into the cool of the bungalow.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “Well, not home-home, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, me too.” I dumped my backpack in the corner of the bedroom. I wanted to open it and check the ring, but I couldn’t. Then I looked around for a suitable hiding place, but I couldn’t do that either.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine,” I said. “Just tired from the drive.”

“Oh, okay. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“No! Don’t,” I added in a calmer voice.

She smiled, relieved and a little amused. “Do you want company in the shower? I took one earlier, but… I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, but I wanna take a cold one.”

She shivered involuntarily.

“Right. By myself. Besides, you know how you get after a hot shower.”

“Mmm, all sleepy,” she agreed.

“I won’t be long. Then we can talk while you do your lotions and potions. I like that, like watching you.”

Her cheeks turned pink with pleasure.

“And then I need to remind you why we’re together.”

“Oh? Do I need reminding?”

“Over and over… for the rest of our lives.”

* * *

The quarry road took two days to finish instead of one. Trip and I worked on it while the girls went back to their regular jobs in camp, although “vacation” was a better description during the week.

We finished clearing the road and then decided to take advantage of the Bobcat and brush cutter while we had them. We used the chainsaw first, and I felled several larger trees around the quarry rim. Then I cut them into manageable logs, while Trip dragged them downhill with the Bobcat and a chain.

Once we finished with the trees, he used the brush cutter to clear and widen the track from the base of the quarry to the top. I hauled debris down to the pile of logs. Finally, we shifted several of the smaller boulders away from the site where we planned to build our deck.

“What do you think about a floating dock?” Trip said. “Nothing extravagant, only twenty or thirty feet. Long enough that we can dive off the end.”

“Or tie up the raft and use it as a sunbathing platform,” I added.

“Good idea.” He surveyed the site. “Keep the Bobcat for a while, too. It’ll make things easier, starting with an auger attachment to dig holes for the deck footers.”

“And for the diving platform,” I agreed. “Hold on, that won’t work. The topsoil’s pretty thin up there. Do they make rock drill attachments?”

“Sure. Have to go to Spartanburg to get one, though.”

“That’s fine. We’ll need it to anchor the platform.”

“So… you’re serious about that?” he said.

“Christy is.”

“She really wants to jump? From up there?”

“Dive,” I corrected, almost absently. “Any idiot can jump off a cliff.”

“Not this idiot,” he laughed. Then he eyeballed it. “That’s… what? Fifty feet?”

“More like thirty-two. Well, thirty-three, but who’s counting?”

He gave me a funny look.

“Ten meters.”

“Whatever.” He grinned and changed the subject. “So… have you decided when you’re going to pop the question?”

“Not yet. I’m working on it.”

“Lemme know if you need any help.”

“What?” I laughed. “Another sewer float?”

“Aw, c’mon, you gotta admit… that was brilliant.”

“Yeah, it was. I still owe you, though, and payback is hell.”

He shrugged and grinned. “What’re friends for?”

“You can say that again. Anyway, let’s finish up. You ready to head back?”

“Yeah. I have some invoices and paperwork I need to go over with Susan.”

“And I still have a ton of drawings to finish for Granville.”

“Is he ready to sign off?”

“Yeah. On the bathhouse and new RV site. Probably next week for the cabins.”

“We’ll have to celebrate when he does.” He eyed me sideways. “When’s Christy’s friend get here?”

“Brooke? On Sunday.”

“Wren says she’s ‘sort of’ a swinger?”

“She wants to try. You know how it is.”

He nodded. “And… um… between you and me, Wren’s a little jealous.”

“Of Brooke?”

“Duh! Who else? She’s been acting weird all week. Nothing crazy, but you know how she gets snippy?”

I nodded.

“Well, I finally put it together. She’s jealous.”

“She doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Still, you know how she is. So I’m gonna play it cool for a while. With Brooke, for sure.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” he laughed, “I’m not a total horndog! But still… Wren said that Christy told her that Brooke—” He paused, listened to what he’d just said, and laughed. “God! I sound like those girls in high school.”

“A little, yeah.”

“Anyway, Brooke’s a redhead, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And gorgeous. What… an eight or nine?”

“More like a ten,” I admitted.

“I was afraid of that. Don’t tell Wren, but I kinda have a thing for redheads.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Besides, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m not gonna screw it up.”

“No.”

“Still… a redhead? And a ten?”

“Just play it cool, like you said.”

“Yeah. But do me a favor.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Maybe you can pay a little more attention to Wren, especially while Brooke’s here. She… um… kinda feels neglected. She’d kill me if she knew I was telling you, but… you know.” He shrugged. Then he thought of something and grinned instead. “I thought Wren liked to be the center of attention, but Christy has her beat.”

I frowned as the conversation headed in a new direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that Christy’s been calling the shots lately.”

“So?”

“Hey, I’m cool with it. Besides, Wren says it’s what she does. She manipulates things from behind the scenes.”

“And…?”

“And… nothing. I’m just saying. Christy’s calling the shots. No problem. But Wren’s feeling neglected. And a little jealous of Brooke. That’s all. I thought… maybe… you know… you could show her a little extra attention. You know how she feels about you. Hell, I feel the same, almost. You’re my best friend, practically my brother. You know that.”

“Yeah.”

“And we have to keep our women happy.”

“True.”

“So… I’m gonna play it cool around Brooke. Besides, it’ll help with Christy, too. She already thinks I’m too full of myself.”

“You kinda are, dude,” I laughed.

“It ain’t braggin’ if you can do it.” He waited for me to recognize the quote but then rolled his eyes. “Dizzy Dean? Seriously? You don’t know anything about baseball, do you? Thank God Christy does!” He clapped me on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s load the Bobcat and get back to camp. We have work to do. And remember what I said about Wren. Please. She’s not as tough as she seems.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll pay more attention to her.”

“Thanks. She really enjoys it.” He grinned. “She gets frisky when I talk about us double-teaming her.”

“You really are a horndog,” I accused.

“One of us has to be. Ever since you turned monogamous…” He waited half a beat and then laughed. “I’m just kidding. Wren told me what you were up to with Kim. Sounds pretty hot.”

I didn’t bother to reply.

“Yeah, I get it. You aren’t gonna tell me.” He laughed again, completely unperturbed. “Let’s get going. Time is money.”

“Or something…,” I muttered, but he wasn’t listening.

* * *

We started demolishing the two-bedroom cabins on Wednesday. Four of them had stood empty all season, and they already looked resigned to their fate. The first one came down without any trouble, especially with the backhoe and a shear attachment instead of the bucket.

The work wasn’t as tedious as the house demolition, but it was far more dangerous. Trip was rusty as a backhoe operator. He was better than a total novice, yours truly, but not by much. I learned the hard way that I had to be careful and watch out.

“Maybe it isn’t like riding a bike,” he said when we finished for the day.

I kept my reply diplomatically brief.

“How’s your head?”

He’d dropped a piece of roof on me. It was a small piece, relatively speaking, and I’d seen it coming in time to flatten myself against the side of the truck, but the corner had still caught me.

“Fine,” I said. “The hard hat absorbed most of it. My neck’s a little sore, but I’ll survive.”

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were over there.”

I’d been on the far side of the dump truck, picking up debris that had missed the bed.

“Maybe you should wear one of those bright orange vests.”

“Probably a good idea,” I agreed.

“Wouldn’t’ve helped this time, though,” he lamented. “I thought I had the piece lined up right, but it flipped over the edge.” He looked at me sideways. “You… um… won’t tell Christy, will you?”

“No. Why?”

“She’d kill me.”

I scoffed.

“Dude, she would,” he persisted. “She doesn’t back down. And she’s stronger’n she looks.”

“So, you figured that out?”

“Yeah. Anyway, thanks for not telling her,” he added. “I’ll get better with the backhoe. And… I’ll do a better job watching out for you.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded and changed the subject. “So, Granville J. Blo— What’d you call him?”

“Bloviator.”

“Whatever. I’m not gonna remember that.”

“Like I don’t remember baseball.”

“A shame, too. Anyway, Granville tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Wren and Christy need to make a grocery run, so I’m going to take the Cruiser to a mechanic.”

“How old’s that thing? Ten years?”

“Twelve.”

“Time to buy a new one.”

“I can’t afford a new car!” I laughed.

“Sure you can. Susan already paid us for the bungalows. And I submitted a pay request for the road work. Our management fee should be decent. Plus, I’ll submit another request for the demolition work as soon as we finish the cabins. You’ll have more than enough. Trust me.” He grinned sidelong. “It’d make a nice engagement present.”

“Aw, Trip, you don’t have to do that.”

“Ha! No, not from me. From you… to Christy.”

“Oh, please, not you too!”

“Yeah, sorry. Wren wants me to find out when you plan to do it. Oh, and Christy knows something’s up. She was bragging to Susan about how you fixed the sewer float. This morning. Wren told me when they brought lunch.”

“And…?”

“Your dad was there. He might’ve given you away.”

“Seriously?”

“I guess he thought it was a joke, like blinker fluid.”

“So… what happened?” I asked. “He told her they don’t exist?”

“Wren said he covered it pretty well, but… Christy isn’t stupid.” He paused. “Listen, I’m just passing along what I know, okay? Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m serious about the car, though. You should do it.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“Don’t overthink it, dude. You know I’m right.”

“Maybe.”

“And don’t overthink the other thing. All you have to do is get down on one knee and ask. You know she’ll say yes.”

“I know, but I gotta do it my way.”

“Whatever, dude. Just don’t keep her waiting too long.”

* * *

I called Carter on Saturday. He was at work, Kim said, but they’d love to meet us for “Sunday supper.”

“That’s ‘brunch’ to you and me,” she explained with a laugh, “but Carter calls it ‘supper.’ We usually eat at the country club with my parents,” she added. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, of course.”

“I’ll put your names on the guest list.”

We agreed on a time, and she gave me directions.

“Sounds good,” I said. “We’re looking forward to it.”

“Us too. Carter will be so happy!”

We said goodbye and hung up.

Trip smirked. “Hot date?”

“Not really.”

“Carter and Kim, right? The same Kim you banged while we were in Atlanta not getting lucky?”

I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughed. “Besides, we have friends we swing with that you don’t.”

“It isn’t that kind of date,” I said. “It’s just brunch. Then we need to head to the airport to pick up Brooke.”

He unconsciously looked around for Wren, although she and Christy were safely outside, relaxing on floats in the pool.

“What about a party tonight?” he said. “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah, probably. What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing wild. Just something to take the edge off, before tomorrow. Besides, Wren could really use the… um…” He snapped his fingers several times.

“Reassurance?”

“Yeah, exactly. Good word.”

“It’s what I do,” I said.

“Anyway, tonight. Maybe she can be the center of attention?”

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

“Do you need to check with the boss?” he asked.

“Who? Christy? No, I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”

“Cool. So… I’m thinking…”

* * *

Christy and I dressed in country club attire the following morning. I skipped my dress shirt and tie and wore a light pink Polo instead, with khaki trousers and comfortable loafers. Christy hadn’t brought any dress clothes, but it didn’t faze her. She turned a sleeveless floral sundress and white summer-weight cardigan into a suitable outfit, along with a string of pearls and matching earrings for an extra touch of class.

“Where’d you get those?” I asked.

“My nana. When I turned sixteen.” She struck a pose and said in a Boston Brahmin accent, “Every proper young lady needs a pearl necklace.”

I chuckled and didn’t tell her I’d meant where had she gotten them here, although I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d brought a selection of jewelry. She misunderstood the chuckle anyway.

“No, she didn’t mean that kind of pearl necklace.”

“You never know,” I said wryly. “Your libido comes from somewhere.”

“Oh my gosh, what if you’re right?”

“Maybe your nana likes special skin cream.”

Christy’s eyes flew wide. “Paul! She’s been a widow since… forever!”

“Widows have needs too.”

“Not like that.”

“What about Susan?”

“Don’t use logic against me.” She checked her makeup in the mirror and blotted her lipstick. “Ready when you are.”

Wren and Trip were relaxing by the pool. She looked exhausted but happy. I hadn’t counted her orgasms the night before, but I’d been responsible for at least one. Trip and Christy had combined for another three or four, maybe more.

“You look nice,” Trip said.

“Thanks.” I tried to imitate the Brahmin accent, “Supper at the club with Brad and Buffy.”

Christy rolled her eyes but grinned anyway.

“You need anything while we’re in Charlotte?” I asked in my normal voice.

Trip shook his head. “What about you, babe?”

“I’m good,” Wren said. “Very, very good.”

He chuckled and tossed me a ring of keys. “Here you go.”

I caught them and singled out the ignition key with the VW logo. The Cruiser was still in the shop, so he’d offered to let us drive the Rabbit.

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll be home before dinner.”

“I should be recovered by then,” Wren said.

Trip smirked and nodded his thanks to me, although Christy had known exactly what we were doing (and probably why). Wren had figured it out too, but that hadn’t stopped her from enjoying herself.

Christy and I said goodbye and headed out. We drove in companionable silence until I pulled onto the interstate and accelerated up to speed in air-conditioned comfort.

“What do you think about a new car?” I said.

“Why? Can’t they fix yours?”

“They can, but…”

I explained that the mechanic needed a new compressor for the air conditioner. The local parts supplier didn’t have one, and the salvage yards had laughed. They had plenty of parts for American cars, but they didn’t see many “rice burners.” It was small-town prejudice, and it was the reality I had to deal with.

“Oh my gosh, for real?” Christy said. “How can they not have the parts?”

“It’s a Japanese car, and this is rural America. They have both kinds of cars here, Chevy and Ford.”

She didn’t get the Blues Brothers reference, but she understood the sarcasm.

“The mechanic’ll find it eventually,” I said. “The Toyota dealer in Columbia can order one, but I’d have to buy a whole new system. That costs a fortune. The guy called some junkyards he knows—”

“Hold on,” Christy said, “junkyards?”

“Yeah. The Cruiser’s old enough that salvage and junkyards are our best options. Unless…”

“Unless what? Unless you drive without air conditioning?”

“Or buy a new car. What do you think?”

She frowned uncertainly. “Why’re you asking?”

“Because it’s a major decision. It’s what couples do. And… I’d need your help.”

“What? To pay for it? Oh my gosh, my father’d kill me if—”

“No,” I laughed, “not to pay for it. To help pick it out.”

Her eyes widened behind her sunglasses. “You really mean it?”

“I think so.”

“Oh, Paul… I’d love to!” Her smile shone like the sun before it clouded over.

“What?” I said nervously.

“I hope you don’t think this means we’re engaged.”

“No… why?”

“Because I want a real proposal and a real ring, not some… car!”

I chuckled.

“I mean it,” she warned.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. You’ll get everything you want.”

“Soon?”

“I’m sorry… what were we talking about?”

“Ugh! You are so infuriating sometimes!”

“I know. It’s why you love me.”

* * *

We arrived at the country club, and the maître d’ showed us to a table with Carter, Kim, and her parents. Carter stood and gave me a silent heads-up. Then he made a point to introduce his in-laws as Mr. and Mrs. Harlan Stewart. Mister stood. Missus didn’t.

Harlan Stewart was a handsome man in his mid-fifties with a conservative hairstyle, strong features, and lips set in a perpetual frown. He wore a three-piece suit and shook my hand with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t have anything against me in particular as much as my whole generation. I called him “Mr. Stewart,” which he accepted as his due.

His wife was ten years younger, dark-haired, and quiet. She was pretty, but her limpid blue eyes had lost their spark long ago. Her dress added ten years, which made her look like a midsized Nancy Reagan instead of the lively, attractive woman she could’ve been.

Mrs. Stewart, no first name, smiled politely and offered her hand palm-down. I took it and bowed slightly instead of kissing it. She reminded me of a prize orchid, beautiful and well-tended, always on display. She was used to being judged, too, and was resigned to life in a box instead of a garden, where she belonged.

We took our seats, and a waiter appeared to take our orders. Brunch wasn’t exactly formal, but Kim’s parents were definitely old-school. Her father was polite enough, especially when we talked about the country club. And he nodded with approval when I said I needed to learn how to play golf.

Then the conversation shifted to stocks and investing. I added a few semi-intelligent comments until we veered into politics. Mr. Stewart made Barry Goldwater seem like a flaming liberal, and my political views would’ve made me a heretic. I didn’t want to be burned at the stake, so I kept my opinions to myself.

I didn’t say much to Mrs. Stewart, either, although she and Kim and Christy talked to each other through most of the meal. They occasionally paid attention to our conversation, but none of them commented on it, and Mr. Stewart didn’t try to include them. We were in separate worlds, the men with our important business and the women with their frivolous gossip.

“Sorry about that,” Carter said afterward.

Mr. Stewart was giving the ladies a tour of the club’s portrait gallery in the lobby. They were far enough away that they wouldn’t overhear us.

“I should’ve warned you,” Carter added. “They’re really nice people, especially when we’re alone, but Harlan’s extremely conscious of his position at the club.”

“They’re fine,” I assured him.

Carter thought of something and chuckled. “My parents aren’t any better. They’re a bit less stuffy, but my father does the same thing in formal settings.”

“We all do,” I said.

“Right. I should’ve known. You’d understand. And I’m glad you figured it out, back when I introduced you.”

“Yeah, I knew better than to call them by their first names.”

He checked his watch and changed the subject. “Do you have time to stop by our house before you have to pick up your friend?”

“I wish we did. Maybe next time.”

“We’ll have to plan something. The long weekend we talked about?”

“I’d like that. We’d like that.”

He raised a sandy eyebrow.

“Christy wants me to learn more about the scene.”

“I’d be happy to teach you. And Kim would definitely enjoy the attention.” He leaned close and said in confidence, “I’ve kept her shaved. I like the look, and she likes doing it for me.”

“Same with Christy.”

“No plans to do my own,” he added in a normal voice. “I prefer the natural look.”

“Different strokes.”

“Right.” He let his glance drift to Christy and Kim. “We definitely need to plan something. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been thinking about Christy a lot.”

“Oh?”

“Her, ahem, oral skills. Kim’s good, but… she could learn a thing or two.”

I equivocated politely.

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he added, although he immediately laughed. “Not like that. I don’t swing that way. But I like watching you and Kim together. She really gets into it.” He shot me a grin. “She doesn’t normally start things, but she did last night. I came home from work and she practically attacked. She didn’t want the usual, either, and she couldn’t get enough.” He smiled at her fondly.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “Christy and I’ve had some conversations about you that ended the same way.”

“And I still want to get the girls together. With each other, I mean. Kim said she wants to try, but…”

“It’ll happen when she’s ready.”

“Yeah. I can’t force it.”

“I’m glad you understand,” I said.

“Being a good Dom is about more than discipline. You have to respect boundaries too.”

I nodded and risked a discreet peek at my watch. We were late already, but I didn’t want to seem rude.

“You have to go,” he said.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I wish you could stay longer, but I understand. And, if I’m being honest, I have work to do. But…” He glanced at Kim again. “We probably need some time alone.”

“All work and no play…,” I agreed.

“Right. She still has a key to the offices here. I think I’ll tell her parents I need to make a call. She likes doing it where we might get caught.” He grinned at me sideways. “It’s cool that we can talk about this stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll talk more next time. A long weekend, for sure. In the meantime, it was good to see you.”

“Absolutely.”

“Now, let’s go rescue Christy so you can get out of here.”

* * *

We were still late getting to the airport, and we discovered that Brooke’s flight had landed thirty minutes early. We skipped the gate and went straight to baggage claim instead.

Brooke was easy to spot, especially with her copper hair in a ponytail and big white bow. The rest of her outfit was just as eye-catching, sexy and professional at the same time. She wore a fitted white blouse under dark suspenders that curved around her breasts. The suspenders fastened to high-waisted pants, which accentuated her curves and made her legs look even longer.

She relaxed when she saw us. Christy bounced in delight and ran to her. They hugged tight, and I waited for them to separate before I leaned in for a kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry we’re late,” I said.

“No, it’s okay,” Brooke said. “We were early. The captain said we had a tailwind. Like, a hundred and forty miles an hour.”

Christy’s eyes popped. “Do they really go that fast?”

“Up in the jet stream, yeah,” I said. “Not down where we normally fly.”

“Oh my gosh, can you imagine? Never mind, of course you can. How was your flight?” she asked Brooke.

I picked up her big pink suitcase, and the girls chatted as we walked out to the car. I opened the hatchback and swung the suitcase into it. Then I held out a hand for Brooke’s overnight bag.

“Hold on,” Christy said, “how come you brought so much? You know it’s a nudist camp, right?”

“She had to make it look real,” I said.

“What? Why?”

I sighed, and Brooke read me perfectly.

“Give it up,” she said. “She’s terrible at cover stories.”

“I am not,” Christy grumped. “Besides, why do you need a cover story anyway?”

“Because her parents would start asking questions,” I said, “if she only packed an overnight bag for a two-week vacation.”

Brooke nodded.

“So?” Christy insisted. “Who cares?”

“My mom already thinks this is Little Darlings.”

“Huh?”

“The movie?” Brooke said. “Where the girls go to summer camp?”

Christy shook her head blankly.

“They make a bet? Who loses their virginity first? We saw it together!”

“When? Recently?”

“When we were seniors!”

“Um… sorry?”

“You remember everything but this…” Brooke rolled her eyes. “We went on a double date.”

“Was I with Blake?” Christy said. “What’s the matter? Blake? Oh, Paul knows about him. He knows about all my boyfriends. I told you, he isn’t jealous.” She returned to the original subject with her usual whiplash speed. “Wait, now I remember! The movie, I mean. You were with that guy, Blake’s friend, the one from CDS.”

“Josh,” Brooke said flatly.

“Hold on, I thought you liked him.”

“Not at first. He was all over me. Remember?”

“No, sorry. I… um…” Her tan cheeks turned rosy.

“Lemme guess,” I chuckled, “you were preoccupied? Your favorite pastime?”

“If you must know—”

“I must, I must.”

She glared and continued, “If you must know, Mr. Sex on the Brain, we were arguing.” She rounded on Brooke. “I told you! That night. Remember?”

“What were you arguing about?” I wondered.

“He wanted to go all the way. I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Brooke agreed.

“So, that’s why I don’t remember the movie,” Christy continued. “Not because I was blowing him. Besides, I never did that sort of thing in public. I was a proper young lady.”

“You were not!” Brooke laughed. “You were worse than me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Christy lied glibly. “I was a virgin until Paul forced himself on me.”

I snorted.

“Oh, no,” Brooke laughed. “You forced yourself on him. You told me that, too. Remember?”

Christy stuck to her story. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Brooke and I shared a grin.

“Laugh all you like,” Christy said. “Paul, dear, are we ready?”

* * *

The girls talked the whole way back to camp, nonstop. I felt like a chauffeur and even made a joke about it.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Christy teased, “do you need some attention?”

I glanced at Brooke in the rearview mirror, but she arched a perfect copper eyebrow in amusement.

“No,” I said cautiously, “but I wouldn’t mind being part of the conversation.”

They’d already covered Brooke’s internship, her brother’s new job, the camp landscaping, Granville, the quarry road, and more.

“What else is left to talk about?” Christy said.

“I know,” Brooke said. “What’re the sleeping arrangements? We never—”

“What?” Christy squawked. “We did too. We talked about it… um…”

“Never?” Brooke supplied.

Christy searched her memory but came up blank.

“Mmm hmm.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Christy shot back. “You’re staying with us.”

“What? On the couch?”

“No, of course not. In the bed.”

“That’s fine for you, but what about Paul?” Brooke said.

“What about him?”

“What does he think?”

“He’s fine with it. Aren’t you, dear?”

Brooke’s eyes met mine in the mirror.

“I am,” I said. “Although, I should warn you…”

“We have sex,” Christy finished for me. “Like, a lot. Well, not sex-sex, although we do that a lot too, but you know what I mean.”

“I don’t want to get in the way,” Brooke said.

Christy didn’t understand, but I did. Brooke didn’t want to get her hopes up only to be disappointed. And she didn’t want to take us for granted, which was exactly what Christy had done to her. My little angel had good intentions, but she wasn’t the best at expressing them sometimes.

“You won’t get in the way,” I said to Brooke. I paused a beat before I added, “Especially if you’re in the middle.”

“Unh!” Christy whined, but it was playful instead of petulant. “I wanna be in the middle. Oh, I know! We’ll share. You be in the middle at night, and I’ll be in the middle in the morning!” She beamed and then imagined it. “Pussy at night, penis in the morning. Only, I want penis at night too. And pussy in the morning. I suppose we’ll just have to figure it out.”

Brooke and I shared an amused look in the mirror.

“I’m a sex fiend now,” Christy added. “Paul corrupted me. It’s all I think about. Sex, sex, sex.”

“You are so strange,” Brooke said.

“Yeah,” I said, “but it’s why we love her.”

“You can say that again,” Brooke laughed. Then she sobered and looked at me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way…”

“I’m sure,” I said. “We’re sure.”

Christy nodded.

“In fact,” I added with a sideways grin, “I think we’ll prove it.”

“Right here?” Brooke wondered nervously. “In the car?”

“No,” I chuckled, “it’s a little cramped for a threesome.” I slowed and turned onto the camp road. “But shortly.”

“I told you,” Christy said, “you’re going to love it here. Penis and pussy and sex, oh my!”